


Untying His Cane

by Firestorm717



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-21
Updated: 2010-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firestorm717/pseuds/Firestorm717
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson share their mutual bitterness at Valentine's Day in the park. A temporary remedy is proposed, and the oak tree by the lake is finally put to good use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untying His Cane

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Untying His Cane  
> **Rating:** NC-17 for explicit sexual situations  
> **Pairing:** House/Wilson  
> **Word Count:** 6,570  
> **Description:** House and Wilson share their mutual bitterness at Valentine's Day in the park. A temporary remedy is proposed, and the oak tree by the lake is finally put to good use.  
> **Author's Note:** Haha! Finally wrote a PWP for these two XD sorry, this was supposed to go out on February 14th, but clearly, I was preoccupied for over a week so you're only getting it now. Still can't believe the length it ballooned to (no pun intended). Wrote most of the sex while sipping vodka shots, too. Some mild spoilers for _Insensitive_ in the beginning, as it continues from that day's morning.

Couple. Couple. Couple. Single.

The single was sitting on top of the park bench table, cane swinging loosely in his hands as he stared out at the couples with an almost scientific interest in his gaze. A large tree shielded him from the winter sun and kept the tabletop from being covered with snow. He propped his leg up on one side, glancing at the sky to check the time – still a good few hours until Cuddy would notice his absence – before setting his cane down and reaching into his pocket for an afternoon snack. She had practically attacked him with clinic hours after the case was over, no doubt revenge for her ruined night out with Mr. Jiffy Lube guy. It didn't take a genius to figure out someone hadn't gotten laid.

He'd diagnosed the first two patients as love sick, and then made his escape. The nurse at the station was too busy staring forlornly at the Valentine's display to notice. On the bright side, he had gotten free breakfast from Wilson this morning..._and_ managed to swipe some free candy over at the pediatrics center.

House popped one of the conversation hearts in his mouth, crunching the purple _Hugs_ between his teeth.

A twig snapped suddenly behind him. He didn't bother to turn around, knowing perfectly well who it was on the park path. Few people approached a cripple out of nowhere.

Wilson's eyes immediately latched onto the candy in House's hand. "You know those were for the children."

"What, really?" House looked down at the pile of hearts with a little gasp. "Better hide them from you, then."

Wilson rolled his eyes. For a moment, he looked hesitant. Then, he remembered that there was really no one around who knew him except for the one person who knew him too well, and stole one of the hearts from House.

"You probably also know Cuddy is looking for you," he said around the candy.

"Not to be her Valentine, I'm guessing."

Wilson tilted his head, as though considering. "No, actually, she seemed more interested in your medical expertise. At the clinic. Where you should be working."

"_That_ would explain the blood red hearts strewn all across the lobby floor." House bit the already tiny tart in half for emphasis. "And here I thought the cardiology department was having an organ sale."

"She might sell your organ if you don't start putting in your hours."

"Fortunately, I've already got the black market cornered."

"Why am I not surprised?" Wilson brushed a few remnants of snow off the edge of the table and sat down with a sigh. A look of resignation crossed his face. This would be the first time he'd skipped clinic duty in well over a year now. "Well, so long as you're running it, I might as well stay here, too."

Silence was the only assent from House. Almost in unison, their gazes drifted over to the joggers by the lake, some running hand in hand with their boyfriends or girlfriends. Valentine's Day. Of course. A day dedicated to an unknown guy in some ancient time who died for a cause that no one could even remember now. Apt metaphor for romance. Wilson no doubt thought it was sweet. House, on the other hand, was contemplating exactly how long before one of them tripped and dragged their fellow lover down with them.

When it seemed Schadenfreude wouldn't be striking within the short time frame of his attention span, he took another conversation heart from his palm and held it up at a distance between his thumb and forefinger, as though examining some detail.

"You are – my sweet lovebird," he announced abruptly, his tone that of a surgeon asking for a scalpel.

"What?" Wilson looked up, startled, until he noticed what House was reading from.

House shrugged and flipped the candy into his mouth. "Guess that pick-up line doesn't work."

"Maybe you'll have better luck with..." Wilson reached for another one and squinted at it. "...You are my cutie pie."

House quirked an eyebrow. Really, who wrote these things? Applicants rejected by Hallmark?

"Pithy," he said. "But still not as smooth as – " Another heart went up. "Be mine, lover boy."

Wilson matched House's raised eyebrows. "That's a little one-sided towards a gender."

House shrugged. "Not really. He could just be dressed in drag."

The answering glance was somewhere between quizzical and downright disturbed. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Only if it's something you don't know," House replied.

"I'd like to know what you're not telling me."

"Nope. More like _I'd_ like to know what _you_ would rather not tell me." His eyes narrowed, a mixture of suspicion and deviousness coloring them. "Why is Dr. Wilson hanging out in the park today, instead of playing his DHA cards back at the hospital lobby? It's noon." House waved a hand. "The cafeteria hall's full, there's got to be a dozen brokenhearted nurses pining away for their lost love in the staff lounge alone. Valentine's Day is better for you than visiting hours after Breast Cancer Awareness month."

Wilson glanced away, annoyance and guilt flickering briefly over his face before being masked by resignation. He should've expected House to put things so bluntly. "The openly brokenhearted are never as good," he remarked, running his hand over the other's cane.

"You would rather charm the secretly brokenhearted?"

"I thought you might like that better. Gives you more entertainment to see me work hard."

House smirked wryly. "And you're all about entertaining me when there's no clinic duty to ditch."

"You have me all figured out, don't you?"

"Ten years of seeing the same pattern does tend to indicate a repetition of things."

Wilson leaned back on the palm of his hands. "So tell me, oh great observer, what pattern might that be?" He tilted his head to one side.

"The same one that led you out here instead of running circles around the park like the rest of those pathetic jogger lovers." House pulled his cane back up and rested his chin on the handle, a slightly bitter undertone evident in his words.

Wilson looked out at the couples jogging past them. "I don't think we're missing out on much running in circles," he said, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Or stalking girls by the lake," his friend added, equally unconvinced.

"Or swiping credit cards to buy our way into her pants."

House glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "That's my line."

Wilson paused. That was actually true. "I think you might be rubbing off on me. It's really a little terrifying."

"Not as terrifying as this." House picked up another candy heart. "You are the sunshine within my wounded heart," he intoned exaggeratedly. He was about to pop it into his mouth when Wilson plucked it from his fingers.

"That's not part of the stock phrases," Wilson said, peering at he two words etched in red on the pink heart. "Kiss me." He looked at House. "Is that so terrifying?"

"Well, I was shooting for something more melodramatic."

"And a kiss can't be melodramatic?" There was a slight challenge in those words.

"Only if it's on an episode of _Dawson's Creek_."

"I sense a bet coming on," Wilson said. "Is this time for a bet?"

The corner of House's lips lifted in a half-smirk. _Ah yes, now we see your true colors_. "What've you got to offer?"

"Nothing that you haven't taken already."

"Oh, I think you've got a lot more than you're revealing right now." House leaned in, closing the gap between them to mere inches.

Wilson let his head tilt closer as well. "And that would be...?"

"Well, for one, you didn't come out here just to sightsee."

"Maybe I had my sights set on something else," Wilson said, and closed what little distance remained between them with a light kiss on the other's lips. A slight breeze ruffled his hair, but House didn't respond, choosing instead to play the detached onlooker to Wilson's seduction.

"That's _definitely_ a possibility," House said as the other pulled away. A knowing look crossed his eyes. "But I wouldn't say it's all of it."

"Oh, really?" Wilson, unsurprisingly, pulled off the innocent act quite well. "Then you'll have to show me the rest."

The small lilt that accompanied "rest" told House all he needed to know about his friend's true intentions.

"So long as it's part of the bet." A smug grin, and it was his turn to initiate the kiss now, thumb grazing the edge of Wilson's face just below the cheekbone.

Wilson kept the contact for a few moments, feeling the rough brush of the other's ubiquitous five o'clock shadow on his face, before pushing House back slightly, his fingers playing with the collar of the faded blue T-shirt. "I forget what we're betting on again."

"That you can outdo a teenage soap opera in terms of melodramatic angst." House's hand slid along the back of Wilson's tie, tucked inside the sweater vest, and began to gently slip it out as he tugged the other forward.

Wilson followed the direction of the tugging. "Am I winning?" he murmured.

"You'll have to try harder and see." House gave a blatant, almost obnoxious, wink. Wilson's eyes took on a keener gleam, apparently accepting the dare. He pressed his lips against House's harder this time, deepening the kiss almost immediately until he could feel the tip of the other's tongue brushing over his mouth. One hand moved up to pop out the top button of House's shirt just as House managed to loosen the knot on Wilson's tie.

House laid his hand against the throat so conveniently exposed beneath his fingertips, feeling a small shiver as the chilliness of his skin warmed on the other's neck.

Wilson jumped a little at the sudden cold, but didn't pause as he continued to unbutton House's shirt past the collarbone. His face drew closer, hovering just above his lover's neck, and came to rest against the warm, stubbled skin. He was halfway down the other's chest before he seemed to snap out of it.

He quickly pulled House's jacket collar together to cover up the partially unbuttoned shirt, eyes widening somewhat in an, _Oh God, I can't believe I just did that_ expression.

"We can't do this here," he protested quietly. "We'll get arrested for public indecency, and then Cuddy will kill us on top of that when she finds out."

House displayed his complete disregard for Wilson's warning by continuing to undo the other's collar. "You think she'll take Cupid's arrow as a mitigating factor?"

Wilson grabbed House's wandering hands and pushed them back. "_House_."

"Oh, come on," House huffed. "This isn't any Valentine's Day. It's Valentine's Day on a _Wednesday_. Do you realize how long we'll have to wait before it falls on such a perfect weekday again?"

He received a blank stare.

House rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Wednesday, Jimmy! Hump day! Practically made for sex. This opportunity can't be wasted."

Wilson was unimpressed. "House, we're in a public place. _You_ may not have any inhibitions, but I do."

"So says the man who, back in his college days, could find a make-out spot in the middle of a shopping mall without a sliver of shame." He caught the look Wilson gave him, but ignored it completely. Instead, his eyes fell on a shaded spot. "Here. Tree." He gestured at the large oak standing near the lake and, grabbing his cane, took a few steps in that direction before turning around. "Or would kindly Dr. Wilson rather prefer a closet?"

Wilson hesitated. He should know better. He was the responsible adult. He should know better.

But he really didn't.

Two steps behind the oak tree, and he was pulled back in against House, tie now fully undone to flutter freely in the chill spring breeze. His hand went up to finish popping the buttons of the other's shirt – an easy task, considering House rarely bothered doing them all the way up in the first place – then moved down to trace the edge of a collarbone jutting up against the thin fabric of the T-shirt beneath. Wilson drew close, his lips bare inches from the bristles on House's chin. Hot breath whispered lightly against his cheek.

"You haven't shaved in weeks..." he murmured, and proceeded to scrape his teeth gently along the edge of the other's five o'clock shadow.

House closed his eyes and let a slow smirk spread across his lips, enjoying the feel of soft kisses trailing down the side of his throat. One arm crooked around the back of Wilson's neck. Seduction...that was Jimmy's infinite trump card. He had forgotten how good it felt with the press of another warm, supple body against his own.

His overcoat, by now, had slipped halfway off his shoulders, and the oak bark was scratching at the side of his face. But a glance at Wilson told him that his friend had it worse. Having forgotten (or more likely, left on purpose as a diversion) his jacket back at the office, the other man was left with only a sweater vest and dress shirt to fight off the growing cold. The absence of the tie, however thin, left his neck exposed to the breeze as well.

A devious ploy started coalescing in the back of House's mind.

He turned, as if to give Wilson better access to his throat, then slid a hand down the other's back, fingers hooking beneath the layers of clothing tucked neatly into pleated pants. A few languid caresses coaxed a slight arch in his back, and answering strokes made their way down the side of his neck. A gentle kiss found his collarbone. At the next opportunity, House pushed upward, using his height to his advantage to pull the shorter man in and against him, while flattening back to the tree. A twinge ran through his thigh, but his mission was accomplished. Bare skin lay exposed to the chill air all the way up Wilson's spine.

"House, it's cold out here." The other man drew back, shivering.

"Really?" House feigned mock surprise. "You think that has something to do with winter?"

"I think it has to do with you stripping me in the middle of winter," Wilson replied with a bit of a glare. He started to push his shirt down again, but was stopped by an arm looped lazily around his back.

House got a good grope or two in before answering, eyes half-lidded, "Then you better warm up before I find an excuse to induce hypothermia."

The words were followed quickly by a kiss, long and deep, the suddenness of the action causing Wilson to part his lips enough for House to gain entry into his mouth. A wet tongue swirled along the soft interior, sucking briefly on his lip before plunging further in to tickle his palate. A slightly tart taste permeated his mouth, no doubt from all the candy hearts House had eaten. It mixed with the saliva that slid along his lips. Wilson let his eyes fall closed slowly and tilted his head back, succumbing willingly to his lover's hard, demanding kisses.

House added a mental point to his column of the foreplay scorecard.

Despite his complaints, Wilson drew closer into the shade of the tree, arms sliding into the warmth of House's coat as he delighted in the skilled caresses down his chest and back. The feel of House's fingers playing along the curve of his spine, tracing, sliding, skipping, sent a pleasant shiver through him to match the cold tremble brought about by the weather. Pianist's hands, he thought vaguely. Strong, but with a sense of balance in them. The only other time he saw House like this was on the piano, late into the night, the lamp's glow dyeing amber the worn, ivory keys beneath his fingertips. Wilson's breath hitched slightly when those same fingers found his nipples, rubbing slow circles around them as the thumbnail grazed the sensitive skin at the tip. It only took a few pinches for them to harden, stand erect, his breast tingling with goose bumps at the feel of cool breeze against wet saliva – House's mouth on his chest. He let out a soft moan, and nudged his hips forward against the other's groin. The answering tug told him that House was enjoying this as much as he was.

"Still cold?"

"That would be a yes," Wilson replied, slightly breathless, though his flushed cheeks and rosy skin told a different story. "Your coat would make a nice solution, however."

"Sorry, need it for protection. Don't want to explain bark burns next time I go in to my dermatologist."

"We could lie down, you know."

"Don't want to explain grass stains to Cuddy, either."

Wilson rolled his eyes, but didn't argue any further. He was actually a good deal warmer now, and not just because of their proximity. His shirt had ridden halfway up his back, his neck was completely exposed, but the windfall from the tree blocked off the worst of the breeze and House's embrace took care of the rest. The only thing troubling him was his tie...Wilson frowned, trying to tuck it back into the sweater vest's neckline while maintaining his comfortable position against the other's chest. He didn't want it to get blown down the lakefront like last time.

"Of course, judging by the time it takes the joggers to run around the lake, I'd have to say we're about 15 minutes away from having that decision made for us," House continued on. "Which is why _you_ need to stop fussing with that thing before someone mistakes us for two rejects from _Queer Eye_." Abruptly, he plucked the tie from around Wilson's neck, and, leaning over, knotted it loosely around the end of his cane in the grass.

"Did you just – " Wilson blinked, not knowing whether to sputter or laugh. " – just tie my 200 dollar Brioni tie to your _cane_?"

"Hey, I would've tied it to my _other_ one if you'd gotten to second base first," House replied with a salacious wink. "Better hurry up. It might become permanent." He smirked in private satisfaction when Wilson took up the challenge.

The snap of a buckle, the snick of a zipper, and suddenly, long fingers were enclosing his cock, their tips mapping each nerve and groove on the surface of his skin. Familiar prickles of warmth started to grow along his shaft, coaxed by the light strokes of a thumbnail, and the sensitive head seemed to yearn upward further every time the palm teased over its tip. House laid back against the tree trunk, feeling the blood rush rapidly to his groin. Wilson was straddling his good leg, skin flushed a ruddy pink, a certain misty gleam in his eyes reflecting back the pale warmth of the sun. The corner of his lip curled upward in a dimpled smile, which matched the innocent-seeming gaze that played over his lover's face. It was the smile he gave all his pretty girlfriends right before he invited them back for a "drink."

House wasn't fooled a bit.

_And this...is when the melodramatic music climaxes in Dawson's Creek. Sorry, Jimmy, but you haven't won yet._

He drew his leg upward, one hand gripping the tree to maintain balance. His knee slid firmly up to rub against Wilson's groin. The rough friction of his jeans caught on the teeth of the zipper, and he could feel the other's erection through the fabric of his pants, pressing tight. Thighs tensed around him a little. His own cock was getting hard from the steadily quickening strokes.

Thinking that Wilson was looking for a match (and by the looks of things, a game and set as well), House slid his hand down the other's waist, fingers tugging impatiently at the belt buckle that stood between him and his quarry. A look of anticipation glittered in his eyes. His breath was coming in shorter pants now, too sharp in the winter air, but Wilson liked to tease things out a lot when he had the...upper hand (that pun might've just earned him a place in the Purple Prose Hall of Fame), and House figured that if he made use of a few devious tricks, he wouldn't have much trouble catching up. Just as soon as he got through this damned zipper...

And then, abruptly, the friction stopped. House looked up, surprised.

"What, don't think you can hold out?" He leered a little, covering up his own body's definite disappointment at the untimely halt. The ragged edge to his voice did not go unnoticed by Wilson.

"I thought I'd see if you could."

"You already know the answer. That's why you're stopping."

"Then you should have no concerns at all."

"I should have every concern when the man who's giving me a handjob refuses one for himself."

But Wilson was already dropping to his knees, hands dragging the jeans down further, his lips now bare inches away from the other's swollen cock. Hot breaths tickled lightly at the pink tip, heightened by the cold. A slow shiver started up the back of House's spine.

"Somehow, I recall a certain person betting me that a kiss couldn't be melodramatic. He didn't say how or where the kiss should be, however, so I am forced to assume that it can only lie where he enjoys kisses the most."

"Oh, now that's just – " House began, realizing he'd been had.

"Unless...you don't want me to?" Wilson asked with a slight furrow of the brow, innocent reproach etched across his face. His voice took on a sweeter tone. House damned the man silently for being so manipulative – and himself for _wanting_ to be manipulated, despite knowing full well the act (a lot of good that did him), pulled on everyone from sobbing patients to lonely receptionists to even Cuddy herself, when department budget time came along. That was Wilson's secret. He didn't have to hide his manipulation. People played along simply because they wanted to.

The answering press of a hand drew a small smirk across the other's face.

"Mmm..." A soft sigh escaped House's lips, as he sank slowly into Wilson's mouth. _Oh God, that feels good_. Light swirls of the tongue, warm breath, soft licks around the head of the shaft. Alright, so maybe losing the dominance battle wasn't so bad. At least he got to skip straight from make-out to blowjob without the intermediary crotch-grinding. Not that he didn't enjoy the latter, but a little tongue action beat jerking off in the middle of February any day. And Wilson was damn good at the former when it suited his needs.

House's cock hardened rapidly under the skillful ministrations, pressing against smooth gum and wet breath, quivering at every warm lick that was lavished over it. His hand slid down to stroke the other's cheek, fondling idly at the bangs that feathered over his lover's eyes. The engorged member filled Wilson's mouth to the brim. It pulsed steadily, edging its way deeper down his throat, so he could feel every twitch, every tremor that reverberated through its tip. Somewhere along the line, House stopped rocking and began to thrust in earnest in time with each slurp. Wilson smiled a little, taking advantage of the chilly air – now, the tables were turned – to tease, lips resting barely at the end of the other's cock until the saliva began to cool, before taking House gradually back into his mouth again. Several more of these passed, each a little longer, accompanied by an agonized groan and a hand at the back of his neck pressing ever more insistently, till Wilson changed tactics – by promptly deep throating House as far as he could go.

"_Fuck_, Jimmy," House gasped, fingers clenching in the other's hair. Wilson just sucked him in further, tongue playing circles around the base of his cock, throat matching each thrust with a pressure of its own. A hand slid up the length of his inner thigh – _now_ he was cold – and cupped his balls in a delicate embrace. The friction sped up, as the first drops of pre-come dribbled out. House alternated between staring at the sky, to watching Wilson on his knees, brow knit in rapt, yet dreamy concentration (like he's laying out a tie, one of those green-and-navy ones, something pretty to seduce the ladies with), to closing his eyes and simply letting the wet, hungry noises around his cock paint all the fantasies he needed to remember.

A muffled groan escaped his lips, and his hips bucked forward at the next slow suck. Wilson could sense by the tensing of his bad leg that House was close to the edge. He slid one arm around the back of that knee, supporting it, his gaze roving silently up to meet the other man's in mutual longing. Pale, lust-clouded eyes stared back at him. With a last flick of the tongue, House climaxed, warm come spilling into the mouth of the man beneath him. Wilson hesitated for a split second, before swallowing what he could of the sticky liquid, throat bobbing deeply, then spitting out the rest into the grass beside him. Deep breaths echoed in the still air, as he strove to regain his feet. A stray trickle of come clung to the edge of his lip, and he swiped at it, congratulating himself vaguely for avoiding the mess that was his sweater vest the last time he went down on House.

An unsteady hand gripped his shoulder when he finally stood up.

"So, was that melodramatic enough for you?" Wilson asked with a smirk.

"I think...it had...its moments." House wasn't about to capitulate entirely, although his grudging words were undermined by the weak panting in his voice.

It was enough for Wilson, however, who simply crooked an arm around the other's neck and kissed him slowly, sensually on the lips, still wet from perspiration. "Well, we can try again if you aren't sure," he said seductively.

"Appreciate the offer, but unfortunately, human biology says I can't get my dick sucked twice in a row." House actually sounded genuinely disappointed behind all the sarcasm. "Something about God giving women all the long-term advantages." He extricated himself reluctantly from the warm embrace and made as if to dress, but was stopped by a hand on his chest.

House gave Wilson an odd look. "If you're that fixated, maybe you should try out Chase's number two pencils."

"No, I think I'd prefer something different."

The way "different" was said, with a small quirk of the eyebrows and the beginnings of a smile, House knew exactly what Jimmy had in mind.

"You're going to fuck me after that?" he asked, not so much surprised as amused at Wilson's abrupt 180 from innocent-eyed prude to manipulative sex maniac in the space of a few minutes.

"Well, I think I've won the bet."

"You didn't say what you were betting."

"Then, according to your rules, I get to pick whatever I want."

Wilson's lips twitched slightly, as he inched closer toward the other. He knew House wouldn't mind another go, probably wouldn't mind several other goes if it got him away from the clinic and distracted enough not to think about the miserable end to his relationship – still pining after Stacy. That was...the reason they fell together, in more ways than one, and it was the unspoken acknowledgement that this _thing_ – whatever it was – went no further than these bets at the park.

Which is why he was so adamant on not letting it go. Wilson pushed further, determined to get beyond the surface this time.

For someone as much of a control freak as House, one would expect him to twist everything he could in his favor. And indeed, House squeezed every last bit of advantage when he was on top, setting the pace, holding back thrusts, teasing out every last moan before giving his lover's needs consummation. But Wilson also happened to know that House was very selfish, and would choose whatever position gave him the most pleasure regardless of dominance, or pride, or power. Just as long as he got what he wanted in the end. So, in effect, it was simply a matter of...convincing the other man that he would benefit more from...well, more from what Wilson preferred in the end. Making it a win-win all around, really.

"It is possible to enjoy things you can't completely control," he said slowly, a somewhat mixed expression on his face. Brown eyes darkened visibly. "And never really know."

There was a pause as House contemplated the words, then shrugged his assent.

Wilson wasted little time in producing a bottle of Vaseline from his pocket and proceeding to spread it amply over his fingers, capping the top only after he had smeared a substantial amount all across his palm. He got to his knees again, reached up House's thigh, and teased the entrance open until he could slide his index finger in. The muscle clenched around him reflexively, and House closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax despite the steady throbbing in his leg. _Great idea doing this standing up,_ he thought, forgetting for a moment that it was his suggestion in the first place.

Seeing his lover's discomfort – it had been awhile since they'd done this, with everything that had happened since the shooting – Wilson drew closer and crooked his finger a little, searching for the spot that made House moan with pleasure. On the third probe, House gave a little shiver, and by the fourth, he had loosened sufficiently for Wilson to slip another finger inside of him. A hand clamped down on his wrist, pulling him forward. Wilson let his fingers scissor a little before adding a third, enough to spread House's entrance deep with lubricant. The digits stroked in and out, in and out, steadily quickening, until it seemed as if the very muscle that had been pushing him out before was now sucking him in, rhythmically, contractions timed to keep the pressure in as long as possible.

The loss of Wilson's fingers inside of him drew a small noise of dissatisfaction from House. His gaze roved hungrily, impatiently, over the other, urging him to move quicker. Wilson pulled his boxers back down and hesitated, then reached for a packet in his pocket.

"Afraid of syphilis?" House snickered at the sight that greeted him. Trust Jimmy to carry around spare condoms on Valentine's Day.

"I'm trying to cut down on clean-up time." Wilson didn't even bother looking exasperated. "So we can have more sex, presumably. Although I'm not the one keeping track."

"Yeah, I'm sure the drug rep had that in mind all along," his friend answered with a lecherous smirk.

Ignoring the look, Wilson quickly finished preparing himself and set his hardened member between the other's legs. He grasped House's waist tightly, lining up with the entrance, and began to slide in as smoothly as possible.

House's eyes rolled up to the sky. "Ohhh, _yes_," he groaned with satisfaction, hips rolling forward to savor the intensity of the sensation. He pressed down again before Wilson could thrust, and let out another pleasurable sound as the shocks coursed through him.

Wilson might be inclined to reproach him, but he was too busy enjoying himself at the moment to make more than an annoyed grunt at the other's impatience. Slick heat engulfed him, the contractions sending delicious waves of pleasure up his cock. A moan started in the back of his throat, bit off to a gasp at the next plunge, an even tighter ring of muscle squeezing all around him. His hands gripped firmly onto House's hips, careful to counterbalance the bad thigh, and rocked them forward with each push.

The other's eyelids fluttered, muscles in the neck strained out a silent cry, his mouth parted just a fraction to reveal the lolling tongue within. A corner twitched, as if wondering whether to moan or sigh. The sharp, acerbic wit so keen on those lips every day melted away in that instant, and Wilson saw for a moment genuine softness – not tied up in ruses or pranks, but wound gently like velvet around a dark, secret want. Lust rushed through him, and with it, a sudden selfish desire. He closed his lips hungrily over that mouth, possessing, tongue sweeping the soft lining of the palate, and deliberately held his thrust for the next rhythm so he could linger just a little longer with that yearning muffled against his own.

Fingernails dug into the back of his neck, a thigh pushed against his leg, and for a moment, Wilson actually fought the mental urgings to continue on. The beginnings of a protest were silenced by the press of his lips. Blue eyes snapped open irritably (but not without a little urging), fighting...demanding..._needing_ with such urgency they seemed to pierce through every veil of lies. House's protections. His…wants.

But then, the power balance shifted, and House broke off the kiss.

"Trying to make me beg, Jimmy?" he forced out between harsh gasps for air. "You're not gonna get far."

His challenge was met with silence, except for the heated breaths against his cheek. A sort of liquid desire clouded the other's gaze, and instead of responding, Wilson leaned in to press his face against the pulsing skin of his lover's throat, the steady rush of blood filling his ears. His eyes slide closed.

"House..." he whispered huskily, and tilted his head until his lips rested against the other's neck.

A ghost of emotion crossed House's eyes, as his body tensed at the subtle shift in tone. It was…invitation, and yet it wasn't, because there was no choice when it came to vulnerability. Not the name, but the touch caused him to turn his gaze to one side, though a momentary lapse in vision left him exposed to the what-ifs and maybes he'd thought crushed after a lifetime of carefully rationalized logic. Open-mouthed breaths lingered against his earlobe. For a second, House's eyelids fluttered closed – not wholly voluntarily – and he remembered a very different place, with a very different body beside him.

_Everything's easy when you don't care if you hurt anyone._

"Can't," he rasped unevenly, breaking away from the hold. _Won't_ was probably the correct answer. Not that it mattered – just the act was enough to bring a halt to this irreversible, idiot endeavor, stop himself from getting played like some clingy cancer patient looking for a last ray of hope in the arms of Dr. Wilson.

Sarcasm fell back into place like a well-worn cane.

"If I started calling you Wilson, then there won't be anyone with embarrassing nicknames to mock."

A look of hurt, then honest disappointment crossed briefly over the other's face, before being swept away beneath his usual mask of weary acceptance. He knew better than to expect a direct answer from House, a direct acknowledgement, even here at his most vulnerable moment. Everything still remained a game. At least, however, he'd been able to push this a little further – and found that there was some give in the impregnable wall that surrounded his friend.

Another shove, and Wilson steadied them both against the tree trunk again, then thrust forward with a heavy moan on his lips. The sudden move was met by an equal response from House, who rocked easily back into the rhythm of coitus. Physical intimacy – rather, fucking – displaced the emotional awkwardness of before. He threw himself into it with fervor.

Wilson's head bent, as he plunged further in at this new angle, pleasure convulsing through his cock and all the way up his chest. Harsh pants blended with soft moans of delight every time his aim proved to hit its mark. _It's...close. Just there – ah God, right there._ The steady clenching and unclenching of muscle around him, slick and tight, sweat mingling with slippery lubricant to swallow him deeper...it all threatened to overwhelm him. He blinked up to see House's head loll back, Adam's apple bobbing rapidly after each thrust for a gulp of air. The raw lust of it all pushed him over the brink. Wilson bucked his hips one last time and came, gasping out a cry, as sticky fluid spurted up the other's thigh and onto his fingertips.

His words were muffled by the soft clasp of a mouth over his.

Several moments passed before House finally broke the kiss, allowing Wilson to slip out of him and catch his breath in the sharp, winter air. The other man rocked unsteadily on his feet for a few seconds, one hand clenched in the fabric of House's coat, another still laying at the hip, palm half-open. His eyes eventually focused on the beads of sweat dotting his lover's chest. They matched his own.

With a satisfied heave, Wilson straightened up and stripped off the condom, tossing it to one side. His gaze fell on the lovely lakefront, now speckled with several couples (happily far away and with their backs to them) sharing a late lunch in the open air. He had to blink several times to clear the intense sunlight, coldly beaming, from his eyes.

"Thirty seconds."

"What?" Wilson turned around, confused.

"Until you get arrested for indecent exposure." House nodded at the overlooking hill. "First one's about to come around the bend."

Wilson flushed, and quickly pulled up his pants, trying to buckle his belt and pull down his sweater vest all at the same time. He ended up getting neither particularly right, but looked well enough that he could pass as simply answering a call of nature in the middle of the day, or...engaging in alternative exercises. Or something.

"So, we're even now?"

"You're still keeping count?"

"Gotta get my lunch money from somewhere."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I already paid for your breakfast."

"Wined and dined your way through it, too." House finished dressing – or rather, pulling his clothes semi-closed – and reached for his cane. He was about to turn around when Wilson grabbed it firmly too. Both eyes fell on the shaft.

"It has occurred to you that it's usually the _male_ in the relationship who pays for the meals, hasn't it?" Wilson started unknotting his tie from the curved handle, even as House held on to the other end. The long V of silk material dangled loosely between them.

"Not according to feminist porn." His friend gave the cane an irritable tug.

"It's not – " Wilson stopped in the midst of undoing the last strand. "Wait. That exists?"

"Hey, if Japan's involved, anything's possible." House reached over and slipped the knot loop off the handle, flipping it at the other's chest. "At least you've got to admit it beats staying up all night, hitting on tranny nurses."

"This..._did_ end a little better than last Valentine's Day," Wilson obliged, as he secured his precious Brioni tie back around his neck. In fact, it had ended a good deal better than all his Valentine's Days. The absence of any one-night stands might've been a contributing factor. "Unlike that one, a repeat of this might actually be tolerable. Though it'll have to wait until next year."

"Well, there's always March 14th to look forward to."

Wilson frowned. "What's that?"

"Steak and Blowjob Day," House replied with a smirk.


End file.
